‘Thank you, Mrs Hetherington.’ Helen’s mother moved towards the door. ‘But before you go, I’d like to introduce Mr Manning, who we all hope may be the new owner of King’s Green.’
Mrs Hetherington greeted the newcomer with only veiled antagonism, but Jarret was not dismayed. ‘You’re the housekeeper?’ he guessed, irritating Helen by his obvious attempts to charm the old woman, and she nodded.
‘Been here forty years all told,’ she asserted, daring contradiction, and he grinned warmly.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ he affirmed, shaking the gnarled hand that was offered with some reluctance. ‘If I do decide to buy, perhaps we could come to some similar arrangement. I shall need someone to cook my meals andmake my bed. I’ve been doing the latter myself, but I’m not very good at it.’
Helen would have said he was extremely good, but Mrs Hetherington was unaware of the double entendre. On the contrary, she was taken aback by his easy familiarity, and after a moment’s hesitation muttered that she would have to see about that. But she was disarmed, and they all knew it, and Mrs Chase led the way into the dining room with evident satisfaction. All her problems seemed to be ironing themselves out, thought Helen moodily, so why did she feel as if all hers were only just beginning?
Mrs Hetherington had excelled herself with the lunch. A rich home-made soup was followed by roast duckling with green peas and new potatoes, and the fruit sponge to finish was as light as any she had made. Covertly Helen watched Jarret Manning tucking into the meal, clearly enjoying the wholesome fare, but Margot only picked at her food, avoiding anything fattening and drinking more wine than anyone else. Mrs Chase had to ask the housekeeper to bring a third bottle as Margot emptied the second, and Helen saw Jarret lean towards his companion and say something which provoked a sulky reaction.
‘I suppose some of the dairy produce is home-grown,’ he remarked a few minutes later, as Mrs Hetherington cleared the dessert plates, and Helen’s mother was eager to explain.
‘Naturally, we get all our milk and eggs and vegetables from the farm,’ she said, ‘but these days we buy our butter and cheese. There simply isn’t the time to make our own, although of course the equipment is still there. It’s very old-fashioned, I’m afraid, but it does work.’
‘I’d be interested to see it,’ Jarret commented thoughtfully, and Margot made a sound of derision.
‘Of what possible interest is a butter churn to you, Jarret?’ she exclaimed. ‘Unless you’re intending to become totally rural and self-sufficient!’
‘The mechanics interest me,’ retorted Jarret flatly, his blue eyes offering a warning even Helen could recognise. Then he turned to her mother again. ‘Tell me, Mrs Chase, do you have any idea of the approximate running costs of the estate for—say—six months, for example?’
Mrs Chase ran her tongue doubtfully over her lowerlip. ‘Well now,’ she began slowly, ‘we did used to have a bailiff who attended to that sort of thing for us, but what with the rising cost of living …’ She frowned. ‘My solicitor could tell you, I suppose. His office is in Malverley. That’s the nearest town, you see.’
Jarret nodded. ‘But you have no idea?’
Mrs Chase glanced anxiously towards Helen, and her daughter gave her back look for look. If her mother expected her to tell Jarret Manning how much it cost to keep King’s Green going, she could think again! It was hard enough, contemplating selling the house to him, without his having the nerve to ask how much it cost to run the place. What did he want? A balance sheet for the year? A guaranteed return on his interest?
As if realising what was going through both their minds, Jarret suddenly broke the rather awkward silence that had fallen. ‘I’m afraid I’ve started this rather badly, haven’t I?’ he said, showing again the perception which Helen had resented earlier. ‘You’re thinking I want to protect my investment—that my question was levelled in an attempt to find out exactly what my outlay might be.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. That was not my intention, and if I’ve offended you, please accept my apology. I had something entirely different in mind.’
Mrs Chase managed a polite smile. ‘That’s quite all right, Mr Manning. We—I—well, I suppose I should be more familiar with estate matters, but I’m afraid I’ve relied on professional advice since my husband died.’
‘I can understand that.’ Jarret was at his most disarming, and Helen, seated across the table from him, felt her nails digging into the palms of her hands. What now? What exactly did he have in mind? And why did she feel this uneasy apprehension that whatever it was, it would disrupt the tenor of her life? ‘But my proposition—or at least, the proposition which has just occurred to me—would involve a financial settlement to cover the next six months.’
‘Your proposition, Mr Manning?’ But Helen could see her mother’s interest growing. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand …’
Jarret frowned, resting both elbows on the table and linking his fingers together. ‘It’s this,’ he said slowly, andeven Margot was watching him with something akin to curiosity. ‘You say you don’t want to leave King’s Green until after—your daughter has got married?’
‘Yes?’
‘And I’ve already explained that I want to get out of London right away.’
‘Yes?’
The tension around the table was almost tangible, Helen thought imaginatively, herself steeled for whatever was coming next. Margot had put down her glass and was playing with its stem, a sure sign of nervous anticipation, while Mrs Chase was pressing her lips together, endeavouring to contain her evident impatience.
However, Mrs Hetherington’s arrival with the coffee prevented Jarret from continuing, and they all had to wait, chafing under the restraint, while the housekeeper served each of them. Then, just as Jarret was about to begin again, Margot chose to forestall him.
‘You’re not suggesting you become a lodger here, are you, darling?’ she protested in scornful tones, and the atmosphere splintered like so many shards of crystal.
Helen’s stomach churned as Jarret subjected Margot to the kind of contemptuous appraisal that was both pitying and malevolent. Margot sought refuge in her wine, her jerking shoulders revealing the indignant remorse she was trying hard to hide, while he expelled his breath on a long sigh of resignation.
‘As usual, Margot has jumped to conclusions,’ he said, making an apologetic gesture. ‘Only in this instance there is a shred of truth in what she’s saying.’
He paused, and Helen sensed he was looking at her now, but she refused to lift her eyes. Margot had been right then, he was actually suggesting he might share King’s Green with them! How dare he?
‘Before you make the same mistake as Margot, let me explain what I had in mind.’ He produced his cheroots, and after putting one between his teeth, he went on: ‘It seems to me we might both benefit from the scheme I have to put to you. You want to stay, and I need a place to work. I also need to be sure that leaving London is right for me.’ He hesitated a moment before continuing: ‘What I’m suggestingis that we do share the house—but only partly. All I need is the library and a bedroom. My meals could be served to me in the library, and to all intents and purposes the house would still be your own. However, for that—service, what I am prepared to offer is that I’ll make myself responsible for all financial matters pertaining to the estate in that time, and in addition, perhaps we could come to some private settlement regarding the extent of the inconvenience caused.’
Helen was shocked, but her mother was stunned, and Margot looked positively green.
‘You can’t be serious!’ she exclaimed, plucking at his sleeve in utter disbelief, and even Mrs Chase uttered a short